Underneath //H.S. AU

six.

As I lay motionless after what was now the fourth time I've had sex with Harry Styles, I have to plan my getaway. I can't believe I'm even still in his house and that I made a conscious decision to let this arrogant ass take my body. I turn my head towards him and steal a look at his angelic face. Two beauty marks parallel to one another rest on the side of his cheek near the edge of his earlobe. His chocolate waves splayed across the silk pillowcase and as I took in his side profile, I could see why he keeps landing the lead in all of these films. I won't admit this to anybody, but after our encounter at the campus, I couldn't help but google him.

He had begun acting at age 8, landing a supporting role in a teenage version of Titanic entitled Titanic: the Revival. The film, in my opinion was a complete doozy there's no way that anybody could ever remake the original or even attempt to give it a sequel or anything else of the sort. This acted as a prequel, telling the tale of the separate lives of Jack and Rose while they were children and eventually, adolescents. Harry had portrayed young Jack and after that, the roles just kept on coming in for him.

He was absolutely loaded.

"If you're going to continue staring, you might as well just take a picture. It's true what they say you know; that thing about how they last longer," his tone is teasing but still carries the dark sarcasm.

I take the pillow behind my head and smack him in the face with it. He opens his mouth in shock and before I can do it again, he engulfs my wrist with his large hand to stop me. "What were you really doing on my campus yesterday?" The question comes out before I can even stop myself from asking.

He shrugs. "This new film, I wanted to check out the location before I agreed to do it."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Why?"

He turns his head finally to look at me and a smirk automatically forms. "Because it's being entirely shot in one place."

My eyes widen in terror. "St. George's?" My voice comes out shaky as he nods once. "You didn't accept though, right?"

Before he answers, he jolts out from under the covers and shakes his hair out. He bends down to retrieve his boxers off of the floor and pulls them up quickly. They're so tight that when he turns around to face me, my eyes land on his bulge. He's such a conceited prick but I can't seem to peel my gaze from him and his perfectly crafted abs. Why are the assholes always the most attractive?

"Of course I did."

He turns to the closet and reaches up on the shelf to get a towel. Just as I think he's going to interrogate me next as to what I was doing at St. George's, he says instead, "The paparazzi are on their lunch break. As lovely as this little sex-a-thon has been, I think it's time for you to go." He throws the towel over his shoulder and I copy his actions from earlier and emerge from the bed. I debate on making a comment about his rudeness but decide against it as I fumble with my clothing.

Once I have all of my things, I make a show of strutting to the door and get one last look at him. I say from over my shoulder, "Gladly."

"Where have you been?"

Aubrey is sitting on the couch in my flat, letting herself in yet again. Her reddish brown hair shines as the sunlight creeps its way in. Trying to evade the harsh light, I realize that I really should stop putting a key in the pot of the ficus just outside my door. But right now, I'm too hungover and hazed to care.

"Um, out." I feel it's best to keep it vague.

"This is so a walk of shame right now!" She gloats, setting the magazine she was flipping through down on the coffee table. She saunters over to me, the sound of her heels hitting the tiled floors might as well be bombs. She takes my bag off of my shoulder for me and sets it down on top of the magazine. Resuming her place on the couch she continues, "So spill, who's the lucky guy?"

I'm not sure whether or not I should lie. Either way, this is not a decision that I should be making standing up so I collapse next to her and let myself sink into the cushion. I prop my feet up on the table and ultimately regret it as the end of my stiletto clanks against the glass. The sound rings throughout my ears.

Pinching the skin above in between my brows, I figure that I might as well tell her the truth. There's too much that she doesn't know about me and I don't have the energy to think up another lie. "Harry Styles," I whisper so low that it sounds like 'Hay Slay.'

"Who?" She presses.

"Harry Styles," I say again this time with more attitude. His name has a bitter taste in my mouth. I watch her as her jaw hangs open in shock but then twists into a wicked smile.

"No way! The celebrity?" She shrieks while I nod my head slowly. I don't see what the big deal is since she knows very well what it's like to be a 'celebrity.' Not like we're well known or have as much recognition as a guy like Harry but it's still all the same to me. We're all just people, after all. When she sees I'm not responding she adds, "You know, I shouldn't even be saying anything to you because I was with his best friend."

So that was the guy I remember her dirty dancing with. I wonder which one it was, if I remember correctly there were two of them and I do remember there were two guys at the shoot earlier yesterday. Still, I commend Aubrey. She has no shame when it comes to discussing her sexual escapades; she's so open about everything and I envy that about her.

Sure, I've had my fair share of one night stands but it's not really something that I take pride in. Besides those days were from way back when I was in America, my senior year of high school. That was the year my mother started binge drinking and I think I became promiscuous as some type of teenage rebellion. After that stage of my life ended and I moved out here I kept my relationships to a minimum. Nothing was ever too serious and I didn't mind it, it's not like I had time to devote myself to another person.

Aubrey sighed in amusement. "But wow, Harry Styles. I never would have pinned him as your type."

"What do you mean by that?" I don't know what causes me to ask this.

"He's a glorified asshole who attracts a lot of attention, that's all. I know you're not into either of those things."

She's right. I hate guys who are full of themselves and it's always been my life goal to remain invisible. That became sort of impossible when I signed up to have my picture taken and advertised everywhere but I was only in it for the money. But still, something about the way she said it made me want her to be wrong.

Not like I wanted Harry to be my type or anything, but I wanted to be someone else; to reinvent myself. Into someone who wasn't so afraid of being noticed and didn't always opt for the safe, nice guy. Bad boys can have their perks, even though I know that in the end it could never work out. But I'm still young and it's not like I'm looking to become tied down to anybody just yet. So why not venture out and find a dangerous and exciting bad boy for myself?

"Yeah well, I don't think this will be happening again," I reassure her as I attempt to unbuckle the straps of my heels.

"Well, I'll let you catch up on some rest. We have another great shoot tomorrow and it's a bikini one. Supposed to be even hotter out," she sighs contentedly. Aubrey loves the hot weather and humidity and she'll take any excuse she can get to prance around in bikinis and undergarments.

As soon as she exits and retires to her own flat, I reach under the couch and grab a textbook. If I'm going to be out all day tomorrow I really should catch up on this homework.

What are the two types of alveolar cells and their functions?

I groaned; this was going to be a long day.